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ePaper Nov 5, 2015

16 FICTION/BOOKS DESI EXPRESS www.desiexpressonline.com Thursday, November 5, 2015 ILLUSTRATION: Maya D’Costa By Kevin Lobo Akash watched the tiny fish swim up the little stream. He waited patiently till enough had moved up and then quickly splashed in a large rock to block their re- turn. The stolen sieve from the kitchen came down in a giant swoop, in and out of the water. His anxious eyes scanned the sieve, just dirt again. “Wait till the sum- mer comes,” he scolded, “you and your pond will be all gone, baked.” A million streams seemed to flow down the hill and into the little rainy pond. The giant ore tub now detached from its wheels created a mini waterfall be- fore the water finally found its way further down the rocks. The thundering rum- ble of a Euclid made him turn around. Those giant dumptrucks, relics of the British days, still seemed to carry a mountain on their back. “They’re marvels of engineering,” he remem- bered his Dad telling him. The truck now gone, Akash took in the view again. It was an unexpected mid-rainy season break, a combination of a holiday and a weekend. His Mom had packed him off to the mines to be with his Dad; more pickles, jams and squashes in the larder, he thought with relish. The city and the school left be- hind, a world of adventure ahead and the freedom to do what he wanted... at all of ten years old, he felt like a king. The manganese mines were a hub of activity. The giant mining pit across the road seemed to dip deep into the belly of Earth. It could swallow up ten schools he thought, pleased with his inspiration. Each evening as they blasted out more ore,Akash would rush out to find a few brightly coloured rocks that had escaped the sand bags. The mini locos with their little ore-filled tubs had been his chariots across the length of the mines. Inspection done, he basked in the adoring glanc- es of the workers and their ever persistent questions. “Is it the holidays Baba?” they all asked. He felt like a prince touring his future kingdom. The rains had made everything beautiful and green. A crawling ladybug made him scramble into his pocket for the empty matchbox George the cook had given him. Another one and I’ll need a fresh box he thought, stuffing some grass in the box to keep the bugs cozy. A deep woof drew his at- tention back home. Some- where in the giant old British bungalow Naughty, the Alsatian, had probably picked up the scent of a goat or a cow. Akash got up and ran; he suddenly missed his best friend. There were a thousand wags and a million licks Kevin Lobo started life in India and after a brief stint in the Middle East chose Canada to be his home since 1999. The beauty and comforts of a rich nation that Canada is soon wore off to reveal the other, more challenging side of theTrue North, Strong and Free.These inspirations and experiences led him to publish his first book, BRIGHTERRED:An immigrantsonenvisionsCanada, in 2010. Digressing from his first love in writing, non-fiction, this was his first foray into fiction. Besides managing servers, databases and everything IT for a living, Kevin loves to volunteer for social causes, teach kids around his Church on weekends and create anything that a hammer, nails and some wood can put together. His story carried here, The100-year-oldNaag, is drawn from nostalgic childhood memories growing up in India. It forms the seed for a series of Middle Grade fiction books for the new generation. The 100-year-old Naag waiting to greet him. “Why can’t I take him with me for my walks?” he remem- bered his feeble protest. “I promise not to let him off the chain.” His Dad’s amused laugh still echoed in his ears. “That’s because, even 10 of you would not be able to hold him back if he decided to chase someone. Do you remember how both Kashi and Tikas couldn’t get his jaws out of the stray cow’s back?” The gardener and the waterman, two giant men, had tried everything that day but failed. Akash looked with pride as Naughty’s lovable whin- ing and wagging grew to a frenzied pitch as he neared the tall green mehendi, henna fence. A few cau- tious glances around and he was safely through the side metal gate. Boy and dog seemed to roll in an unend- ing embrace asAkash threw himself on Naughty’s back. “Now did you forget you are only supposed to come through the front main gate?” George scolded, concern in his eyes. “With the rains, the bushes have grown wild and there are a million snakes crawling through them.” The circular drive from the front gate was long and Akash hated that extra walk. The giant overgrown bougainvillea arch with its thorny branches seemed to want to swallow him up each time he walked through. The British must have lived in style; he remem- bered an earlier conver- sation between the mine officers. “Do you think they had a palanquin to bring them through those drives?” Akash sat back and watched the circular drive wind its way to the other side in a perfect circle. He could not complete that scan. The bamboo grove on the opposite side of the gate caught his eye; it scared him. George knew it and sat next to him on the ground. “Now remember no matter what, you never ever go there,” George said. “Tell me why?” “Because the 100-year- old Naag lives there,” they repeated together. George felt pleased with the reiteration of his little lesson. “That Naag is the biggest Cobra that has ever lived,” whispered George in a low, sinister tone, to re- inforce the message. “Is it true, is he really there, have you ever seen him?” Akash turned and asked. But George had already rushed off to the kitchen. The aroma of the warm chapatis on the wood fire reminded him that Dad would be home soon. Dad loved his lunch hot and George always ensured that. Akash snuggled into Naughty on the cold cement floor and remembered all the stories of the cobra that ruled the mines. That’s his abode…. He’s longer than the rope that goes down the big well in our back gar- den…. They say he’s so old he’s got hair on his back…. He guards an old treasure in there…. He’s a reincar- nated old king from his past life… The voices in his head seemed to have a hundred things to say about the Naag. The voices sometimes gave him scary dreams in those giant bedrooms, with ceilings higher than the watch towers. He remem- bered snuggling deeper into his Dad’s arms one af- ternoon as they slept. The long ropes that opened and closed the ventilators high near the ceiling seemed from another age, probably as old as the Naag. “I’ve killed a hundred of those pests,” boasted George. “But I’ve never ever seen the great Naag. They say you have to be special to see him.” George was a short pow- erful man with a simple technique. He threw kero- sene on the snakes’ backs and then simple smashed their heads as they lay writhing on the ground, the kerosene burning into their scaly backs. Akash knew that, and still shivered with relief as his Dad’s firm voice had to put to rest any ideas that George had of teaching Akash the trick. “It will keep him safe from those crawling de- mons,” George had said, though accepting defeat. The long toot of the bu- gle brought him back to the present and out of his qua- si-dream. It was evening al- ready and the bugles were warning of the impending evening manganese ore blasting. Akash stood at the mas- sive teak front door and looked out across the giant verandah onto the porch. This was as far has he was allowed to go when they did the blasting. A rock had once come through the baked tiled roof, and since then no one took any chances here. The shred- ded mogra bushes around the drive were a reminder of that. The third bugle done, Akash waited for the thuds from the blasts. Then he looked at Naughty. “Naughty, come back here you silly dog,” Akash called. Naughty did not stir; he looked like a lion ready to charge his prey. Half sitting, half crouched and ready to shoot forward. “There are no cows out there boy,” he laughed at Naughty, “they’ve gone home to be milked.” Naughty had not stirred. A chain of blasts, some par- ticularly loud, had not even made his ears flinch. Like the striking of the midnight clock in a scary movie, Akash felt a strange sensation trickle down his spine. He crawled to Naughty for comfort, not knowing why. His hand shivered as it reached out to bury it in that thick fur. He felt the dog’s tense body underneath and an angry growl emerged from some- where. Naughty had not turned or wagged. A smack on the furry thigh for growling back helped him feel in control again. The growl was deeper this time and he saw the wrinklyskinaroundNaugh- ty’s jaw pull back to reveal ugly, angry fangs. The shiv- ers were now spasms in his body as he became aware of Naughty’s fixed gaze to the left of the porch on the side of the bamboo grove. Akash turned to cry out to his Dad but he knew Dad was still in office, closing up that giant register for the day. His vision now blurry, he turned back — but the bamboo grove didn’t seem to be there. He then real- ized that he had not even looked beyond the porch. Something had blocked his vision. That something swayed menacingly. His fear vanished for an instant as he found his an- swer. Then it came raven- ing back, to cripple him, as he looked at the black mass just a few feet away. Continued on facing page Akash turned to cry out to his Dad but he knew Dad was still in office. His vision now blurry, he turned back – but the bamboo grove didn’t seem to be there. He then realized that he had not even looked beyond the porch. Something had blocked his vision. That something swayed menacingly... George was a short powerful man with a simple technique. He threw kerosene on the snakes’backs and then simple smashed their heads as they lay writhing on the ground

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